Hot Mr Teacher
by slytherix
Summary: [Caulscott] It doesn't take a genius to figure out that Max hasn't got the highest GPA that she's capable of achieving. When she is threatened to be kicked out from Blackwell unless she'll achieve better grades with the help of a boy she cannot stand; she really doubts whether she can pull it off.


I stare at the test papers before me with great unease that cause my mouth to open without an intention on speaking out loud. I automatically bite the bottom lip, my eyes trailing from right to left in a nervous motion.

With an embarrassed expression I scan the test results. All F's. _No surprise here, Max._

 _Gheez_ , I can just imagine the disappointment radiating from my parents' faces, their eyes judging and voices harsh, words venomous; insensitive.

Principal Wells suddenly clears his throat loudly enough for me to wake up from my daily zooming out. I flinch suddenly as he does so and I sink in my seat, steading myself for the wave of scolding that is about to come my way.

I know what he's about to say. ' _What's going on, Miss Caulfield? You can do better than this, Miss Caulfield. Is there something wrong Miss Caulfield? You can always talk to me, Miss Caulfield_.' Blah blah blah . . .

He links his fingers and supports his chin with both hands, fixing a concerned gaze on me. "I've been watching you for the past two weeks, Miss Caulfield." _Creep_. "Is there anything troubling you?" He now makes a gesture with his hands, like the politicians usually do, giving off the impression of being friendly, but the trick doesn't work on me. _I know better._

I open my mouth, but close it once again. Yeah, _Chloe_ has been troubling me. Since we reunited, I've been under so much stress that I think I've started losing weight. So studying whatsoever was not even an option. _Man_ , I don't even get a proper five hours of sleep a day. Plus, I just never been the one to ace my tests; I can work my camera, but not my brain.

I decide to finally speak up. "It's just . . . some family troubles." A typical excuse he might buy, but his expression is currently unreadable, and I'm not sure if he did.

"Are you . . . _sure_?" I raise an eyebrow. _What kind of question is that?_

"Yeah," I answer more confidently, sitting up.

"I've called your parents, Miss Caulfield." _Oh shit._ "Just kidding," he smiles slightly. "But your reaction is telling me that you haven't been truly honest with me." I swallow hardly. _What a sly bastard_.

"So, Max," he leans closer in, wearily observing me. "What's the big deal?"

I freeze, considering my options. Ah, _what the hell,_ it's not like he's going to kick me out if I tell him the truth . . . _right_?

"I've reunited with my childhood friend that I haven't contacted in a very long time . . . " I say, guilt eating me up from inside.

"Ah, I see," he nods with an acknowledgment, and I wonder if he has ever bailed out on his best friend as well. "So you're feeling obligated to making it up to them?"

"Yes! But how do you . . . ?"

He laughs under his breath. "I've been in the same situation before, Max. I know perfectly how you feel."

I raise an eyebrow, having a hard time believing that. "So what did you do about it?"

"The sad thing is that . . . nothing," he says nostalgically, supporting his chin on linked hands again. His expression is distant and defeated, which almost makes me feel sorry for him.

"So you've never contacted your friend again?" I ask, fascinated with the thought of talking to someone about my situation, and especially with someone who can relate to it as well.

"No, and I feel ashamed of it," he shakes his head disappointingly. "So I'm glad that you finally've done what I hadn't had the courage to do." I grin widely. "But that doesn't justify your grades, Max." _And_ the grin is gone. "As much as you'd like to spend all of your time with your friend, and I'm glad that you do, I have to take certain steps." I freeze. Is he _kicking me out?_ "Your attendance isn't great either. You barely even go to school anymore, Max." He reaches for the paper lying on the far end on the desk and turns it upside down, allowing for me to read it. But just one glance towards it tells me that I _definitely_ should try harder.

"I'm really sorry, Principal Wells . . . " There is nothing else I could of add to this. And before he gets the chance to answer, there is a sharp knock on the door and someone immediately enters without the permission to go in.

"Hey, Ray, I–" It's Nathan, and he seems to be confused as soon as he notices me.

"It's _Principal Wells_ for you, Mr. Prescott," he says sternly, showing him to an empty seat next to me. "Please, do sit down, Nathan."

The boy makes an annoyed face but does as instructed and stares at the man without further acknowledging me.

"As I was saying," Principal continues. "If your attendance and grades won't improve, Miss Caulfield, I'll be forced to, unfortunately, kick you out."

I bite my lip and Nathan laughs cruelly, for which I stare at him deadly.

"Max Caulfield, the big goody-two-shoes _kicked out_ of Blackwell?! _How devastating!_ " He says sarcastically, glaring back. I don't even know him well, we don't talk, we just happen to have some of the lessons together, I've never crossed his way, so why be rude _now_? How does he even know my name? I thought that the rich, Vortex Club elite kids didn't waste time remembering some losers' names, yet here we go, it came out of his own mouth.

"That's," The Principal continues, ignoring the boy's snarky comment. "Why you'll be her study-buddy and make sure she'll stop ditching her lessons."

The boy's eyes widen in surprise. " _Me_?!" He asks in disbelief pointing an index finger at own chest and I look at Principal Wells in confusion.

"But, Principal, please, think it through, he parties all the time and doesn't give a crap about school. How is he supposed to help me?" The only things I knew about Nathan Prescott were enough to keep me away from him.

Nathan snarls. "Hey, _you_ be careful now."

"I assure you, Miss Caulfield, that Mr. Prescott takes his responsibilities seriously." Yeah, _right_ , and I'm supposed to _believe_ that?

I look at the boy who gives me a triumphal smirk and I suddenly feel shy, which results in me turning my attention back to Principal Wells. Why did he affect me like that? Probably because no other popular boy have ever smiled at me before. Even though it feels weird, it still is _kinda_ nice.

"And if he doesn't, then he'll fail the following year."

Nathan's visibly outraged, lunging forward in his seat. "What?! You can't–"

"Yes I can and I _will_ ," the man says harshly to remind the boy who is in control of this building.

"Principal Wells, I appreciate your concerns but surely I can work with someone else–" I try to make my way out of it, but I'm cut off before I get the chance to finish.

"Mr. Prescott has been very disruptive lately and this will be his punishment. Now, off you go you two, I have other important matters to attend to." _Yeah_. Drinking the whisky that's hidden under your desk.

I stand up slowly, allowing Nathan to rage out of the room first, and I once again look at the man who's tiredly massaging his forehead.

"Thank you, Mr. Wells," I say honestly, realising he could've and should've called my parents a long time ago but gave me a chance to prove myself first. "And I also think that you should call your friend, Sir. I'm sure they'll understand." I smile reassuringly and his eyes meet mine.

"Thank you, Max. I'll . . . keep that in mind." Visibly thinking, he turns around again and I exit, closing the door after myself.

"So," I hear definitely too close to my ear and I turn to my left to face Nathan.

"It's OK if you wanna just do your own thing. I'll pretend that you've helped me." Having him off my head will be a much better idea than the one Principal has suggested.

"Look, the old man maybe didn't sound too convincing, but he will kick me out if you keep doing what you're doing and maybe you won't believe me but I'm not really looking forward to be failed because of you when I work my fucking ass off to get good fucking grades."

I stare at him in disbelief, and after a second raise an eyebrow, amused.

"Yes, hilarious, isn't it?" His tone is harsh and there's an anger building up in his face.

"Sorry. I just didn't think somebody like you would actually give a shit."

"Somebody _like me_?"

"You know. Party all night, get high and swallow ten pills a day."

"You don't know shit about me," he raises his voice and takes a step closer. I won't lie, I was scared, but excited at the same time. "I will help you and you'll get a fucking A* like it or not, are we clear?"

I swallow, nodding my head. He's just centimetres away from my face and I can smell the cigarette smoke on him mixed with an expensive cologne. Somehow, I think of Chloe and her addiction of nicotine and the smell that often sinks through my clothes as she goes trough about five fags a day.

"Good," he backs away. "Look, don't you dare to tell anyone, alright? It's fucking embarrassing enough to be even seen around you."

I frown. "Excuse me? You're the drug dealer and what-knows, I could get in trouble with police just by talking to you."

His jaw clenches and I'm scared of his reaction, so before he gets the chance to let his rage on, I quickly walk away.

"Tomorrow at 7 p.m. you better be in your room, or else!" He shouts after me. Yeah, _not a chance,_ buddy.


End file.
